


Punk and Nerd

by Worker_9



Category: Maniac Mansion (Video Game)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Condoms, Cunnilingus, F/M, Loss of Virginity, Music Theory, Nerdiness, Pubic Hair, Punk, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2021-01-26 08:23:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21371098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Worker_9/pseuds/Worker_9
Summary: High heels were not the best footwear for fighting in. Razor's escape attempt had failed, but now that Bernard was caught too, at least she wouldn't be bored. Maybe he could take her mind off the pain of her sprained ankle.
Relationships: Razor/Bernard Bernoulli
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	Punk and Nerd

Bernard had only screamed a little bit when he’d seen the tentacle monster. After Dave had persuaded it to go away, he’d courageously pressed on, investigating the upper floor. One wrong door was all it took to ruin everything. The old woman in the nurse’s uniform wrenched Bernard’s arm up behind his back and marched him through the basement. No time to investigate all that fascinating machinery. He knew a nuclear reactor when he saw one, but his only choice was to keep walking. It was that or a dislocated shoulder.

Before Bernard had stumbled into that shockingly pink room, everything had been going so well. He’d volunteered for the dangerous mission of rescuing Sandy, which certainly had to look cool. Even his photographer friend Michael had chickened out, which wasn’t like him. Apparently, “if it bleeds it leads” was a saying about _other_ people.

The second volunteer was that “Razor” girl, who was probably crazier than the inhabitants of the mansion. The team had spread out, commando-style, to find Sandy more quickly, and Bernard hadn’t seen Razor for some time. Razor was kind of scary, but he still hoped she was okay.

The old woman opened the steel door and shoved Bernard inside. The next events were sudden and unexpected. Razor was there, screaming incomprehensibly and charging the old woman like a rabid weasel. Just as suddenly, she collapsed on the concrete floor. Bernard stumbled too as the old woman pushed him forward.

“Hah!” exclaimed the old woman. “Serves you right for dressing like that. You won’t catch _me_ in heels.”

The door slammed closed, and Bernard found himself alone with Razor. She was grabbing her foot, and from the look on her face, was in a great deal of pain. The thin black object on the ground appeared to be part of her shoe.

“Razor,” said Bernard, “are you hurt?”

“Fuck!”

Bernard took it as a “yes.” He looked around, and it was about that time that he noticed the human skeleton shackled to the wall. Screaming in front of a girl would be unbelievably uncool, so he settled for a strangled choking noise. He was glad that Razor was otherwise preoccupied.

“It’s not like I planned to fight in these,” said Razor. She grimaced while she pulled off the damaged shoe, then threw it violently across the room. It bounced off the far wall, where somebody with poor spelling and worse penmanship had gratified “seckrit lab.” “I was supposed to be on stage tonight,” said Razor.

Bernard took a deep breath. The lingering pain in his shoulder couldn’t be anything compared to what Razor was suffering. He could see an ugly purple bruise growing on the side of her right foot. “Is that broken?” he asked.

Razor touched it and winced. She moved her ankle experimentally, and pressed her fingers into the bruised flesh. “Let’s hope it’s just sprained. I can’t walk on it though. Help me up.” Bernard crouched beside her, and Razor grabbed his shoulder. With great effort he stood up, helping her stand on her uninjured left foot. “Take me to the wall.”

Supporting her weight as best he could, Bernard guided Razor across the room. As a manly hunk of nearly 110 pounds, this wasn’t excessively difficult. They made it past the skeleton, and then to the steel wall, and Razor slumped down against it, sitting with her injured foot stretched out in front of her. Bernard sat beside her, breathing heavily.

Bernard got his breath back, and tried his best to stay positive. “At least they haven’t caught Dave. He’ll probably rescue us. Or maybe we can escape on our own.”

“That’s a real human skeleton, you know,” said Razor.

“Don’t worry,” said Bernard. “It takes days to die from dehydration. I found a can of Pepsi. I’ll let you drink half of it. That should give us another day, if we ration it properly.”

“Real generous of you,” said Razor.

“Thank you,” said Bernard before settling into awkward silence. He was somewhat embarrassed that he hadn’t even tried to escape. The old woman had been strong, but the possibility remained that he could have wriggled out of her grasp and fled. Razor had failed, but least she’d tried. “Razor,” he said, “you looked really cool back then. I mean, before your shoe broke. I thought you were going to save both of us.”

“This is so fucked up,” said Razor. “Why didn’t we just call the cops? Fuck, my foot hurts.”

Medicine wasn’t his field. “Do you know what you’re supposed to do about that?”

“Bandage it up or something. I don’t suppose you’ve got any.”

He didn’t. But he hated to see her sitting there suffering. He was supposed to be a hero—that was the whole reason he’d volunteered. And here was a _real_ damsel in distress, or maybe an intimidating and possibly dangerous woman in distress, or perhaps even the Wrong Kind of Girl his mother had warned him about. But it was no time to quibble over details. She was part of the rescue team, and more importantly, she was smoking hot. He needed to make some impressive sacrifice.

“Hmmm, my shirt is clean on today. I could unpick the stitching and remove one of the sleeves. Say, those earrings look sharp. I meant literally sharp, not sharp as in fashionable, although I’m sure they are also sharp as in fashionable. If you lend me one I could get to work disassembling my shirt.”

“Generous, huh. Don’t worry about it, Bernie. I think it’s best if I just rest it.”

“It’s easy enough to rest in this place,” said Bernard optimistically. “There’s nothing else to do here. Say, Razor, do you think this is an actual _dungeon_?”

“We’re trapped here, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“No secret passages?”

“None I could find, and I checked. Doors are locked. Grates are solid. All those bricks look identical. I don’t suppose you know how to pick locks, do you?”

“I don’t.”

“Then we’re stuck here.”

It sure looked that way. If Bernard were some mighty barbarian warrior from the story magazines he’d just smash the door down, but he could see they were solid metal. He’d just have to show how cool he was. “Well, f—” It was no good. “Well, fiddlesticks.”

Razor didn’t reply.

Small talk, that was what they called it. Sandy was probably getting her brains sucked out at that very moment, but it would be insensitive to bring it up. He’d talk about normal things. “What major are you going to choose?” asked Bernard.

“Organic chemistry, probably” said Razor.

“Neat. You’re a fellow scientist. I never would have guessed.”

“Never would have guessed, because…”

Because you’re wearing spikes on your neck, and a tiny black dress that shows an indecent expanse of skin, but how am I supposed to say that out loud? “Because… I suppose I just never thought about it. The physics club keeps mostly to itself.”

“Physics, you say? I think I’ve heard of you.”

“I am moderately famous,” said Bernard. “I won a Geek Award.”

“I’m not in the least surprised. That advert on the notice board must have been yours.”

“The books?”

“Yeah.” She suddenly sounded more cheerful. “Bernard, you picked up a girl!”

“I did? When?”

“You picked me up off the floor,” said Razor.

“That’s not… uh, I mean, so I did! I picked up a girl! Michael will be jealous!”

“Still working on the kissing, though?”

“I didn’t even open that book,” said Bernard sadly.

“You want to kiss a girl?”

“Of course I do!” said Bernard. “I’m one hundred percent heterosexual!”

“Bernie, you don’t need a book for kissing. I’ll tell you the secret.”

“Really?”

“Really. It’s simple. All you need to do is volunteer for some crazy rescue mission, get locked in an goddamn dungeon, act all chivalrous even when it accomplishes nothing, stare obliviously into the face of death, and then let some girl who just wants to take her mind off the pain stick her tongue down your throat.”

“Wow, that sounds complicated. Does it really work?”

The next events were also unexpectedly sudden. But when some total babe grabs your head and starts mashing her mouth against yours, you’d have to be a real idiot to complain. You just pinch yourself to check if you’re dreaming. Gee whiz, it was real!

Razor’s tongue felt nice inside his mouth. She wriggled it about like an angry snake, licking his own tongue and the inside of his lips. She was pretty much hugging him too, at least as far as she could with the injured foot. This wasn’t just any kissing; it was _French_ kissing. By this point his virginity was a mere technicality.

Bernard tentatively moved his own hand up behind her. Razor’s skimpy sleeveless dress had a deep cutout on her back, and she didn’t seem to mind when he touched the bare skin. In fact, it only seemed to encourage her. She kissed hungrily, aggressively, sucking on his tongue and squeezing her body against his.

She smelled nice too. She was wearing some fragrance with a heavy synthetic vanilla note, and everybody liked synthetic vanilla. Bernard thrust his own tongue inside Razor’s mouth, rubbing it against hers. He tried to catch her tongue between his lips, but she was too quick for him, and beat him at his own game.

Razor pulled away, smiling. “Bernie,” she said, “you’re terrible at this.”

Not wanting to waste the opportunity, Bernard thought fast. “That must mean I need more practice.”

“Beats sitting around waiting to die,” said Razor. “Take your glasses off. They’re getting in the way.” Bernard was near-sighted, but the only thing he wanted to look at was very close indeed, so he had no objections. Razor kissed him again, and Bernard tried his best to keep up.

* * * * *

Half an hour later? A full hour? Neither of them wore a wristwatch, so exactly how long they’d spent swapping spit was uncertain. However long it was, it was one hell of an education. Razor finally pulled away and rested her chin on his shoulder.

“You’re not half bad, Bernie. I’d almost forgotten how much I like kissing.”

“You’re really good!”

“And with a total nerd too… Whatever would the Scummettes think?”

“Who’re the Scummettes?”

“My band.”

“You’re in a band? That’s neat! What kind of music do you play?”

“Punk.”

“I can’t say I’m familiar with that genre,” said Bernard. “I don’t listen to a lot of music.”

“It doesn’t matter. Punk’s more about the attitude anyway. You could play guitar if you wanted to.”

“I’ve never touched a musical instrument in my life.”

“Perfect! All you need to do is learn three guitar chords and turn the amp all the way up.”

“Is that difficult?”

“Hell, just learn one chord and strum it really hard. Have you heard ‘Power Tool Lobotomy’ by ‘The Screaming Morons’?”

“That’s a song?”

“An absolute classic. One chord and a whole lot of feedback. And if you don’t want to learn all three you can learn a single barre chord and slide it about the fret board however you like. That’s totally punk.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” said Bernard.

“Sorry, I’m getting too into theory. My mom had me do piano all through high school. I was pretty good at it too. I still practice when I get the chance. You know what a major scale is?”

“Something you’d find on a big fish?”

“No! It’s a happy sounding musical scale. As in a sequence of notes. You get minor scales too, but play too many minor chords and you’ll turn into a metal head.”

“Metal head? Is that something like a tuna head?”

“It’s pretty much the same thing,” said Razor. “Anyway, if you play just the white keys on the piano, that’s ‘C major.’ Easiest scale there is.”

“And what’s that got to do with guitars?”

“A basic chord is called a ‘triad,’ because it’s got three notes. You play three notes together, and it will harmonize with a melody playing any one of those three. Even if you skip the third and play a power chord it works the same. And there are only seven notes to an octave, so three chords of three notes each means you can harmonize every note there is.”

Razor’s words seemed to flow in one ear and out the other. It made very little sense. “Octave” was clearly derived from the Latin _octavus_: “eight.”

“If it only has seven notes,” asked Bernard, “why is it called an octave?”

“Well, it really has twelve, but like I said, we’re talking C major. Just the white keys.”

“So it’s seven notes, or it’s twelve notes, but it’s called eight? That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. Music theory is nonsense. I might as well ignore it and invent my own.”

“Yeah! You’re getting it. DIY ethos. That’s punk as fuck!” Razor interrupted her impromptu music lesson with another bout of kissing, which Bernard very much preferred. She’d managed to untuck his shirt without him noticing, and she slipped a hand under it. Bernard worked his own fingers under the back of her dress. Razor shifted position, then suddenly pulled away, face contorted with pain.

“Razor? Are you okay?”

“Just the ankle. I’ll be okay.”

“If there’s anything I can do to make you feel better…”

Bernard felt her body move against his as she chuckled softly to herself. “Oh, I can think of something…”

“What’s that?”

“I can’t ask. You’re too innocent, Bernie.”

“I’m not!”

Razor responded by thrusting her tongue into his mouth. After another vigorous kissing session she continued, “I’d totally reciprocate thought.”

What a strange comment, thought Bernard. “Reciprocate,” he said out loud. “To move with oscillating linear motion. For example, a piston in an internal combustion engine. So, what, you’d bob up and down?”

Razor just laughed.

“I suppose with your injury it would have to be limited to your upper body. Maybe just your head.”

“That’s about right,” Razor managed to say. She put a hand on each of his shoulders and looked him straight in the eyes. “_Anything_, you said?”

“Yeah!” replied Bernard. “Anything!”

Razor moved her face closer as though she were going to kiss him again, but stopped short, grinning like an idiot. “Okay, Bernard,” she said, “lick my pussy.”

Bernard pinched himself again. No dream. He’d heard her correctly.

“Right here?”

“Why the fuck not? Let’s face it, Bernie, we might never get out of here alive. Let’s have some fun while we still can. You eat me out good and I’ll suck your dick in return.”

“Oh, wow, uh…” He’d read no book that explained this.

“C’mon Bernie. Kissing makes me horny. My panties are already soaked. Get your mouth down there and make me cum.”

Flustered as he was, Bernard could still estimate that the probability of getting a better chance was negligible. To waste this opportunity would be unforgivable. “I’d love to!” he replied.

Razor lifted herself up on her good foot and hitched her dress up, showing black panties. She slid down the wall and forward, to lie on the hard floor with her knees up and both feet on the ground.

“There’s no good place to put the foot,” she said, moving her injured foot slowly. “Get my panties off—carefully!—and I’ll rest it on your back while you’re down there.”

His heart racing, Bernard hooked his fingers around the waistband and gently pulled. The panties slid down Razor’s legs, and her carefully worked them past her injured ankle before setting them on the floor. Razor spread her legs.

She was a natural redhead, or at least the color of her pubic hair matched the hair on her head. Considering the obviously unnatural texture of the hair on her head, Bernard had suspected it was dyed too, but that didn't seem to be the case. Super keen! He lowered himself prone on the floor, and moved forward to bring Razor’s bush into sharper focus. It would be churlish to complain about the hard floor hurting his elbows when Razor had a much more serious injury to endure. She spread her pussy with her fingers, and Bernard moved in very close so he could see it clearly. He could smell it clearly too, which came as something of a surprise. A real live vulva! It glistened like a slimy mollusk, and the scent was somehow even more appealing than synthetic vanilla.

It was just like in the biology textbooks. There were the inner labia, pink and wrinkled. There was the vagina, oozing creamy mucus. There was the clitoris, which he recalled was important. He could even see her urethral opening.

“Stop fucking teasing!” called Razor. “Lick it, nerd boy.”

Even Bernard could tell further delay would be a mistake. He extended his tongue and slurped it over Razor’s pussy, licking up her salty vaginal fluids. He licked again, and Razor put a hand on his head.

You’re not supposed to do that! thought Bernard. He was wearing pomade especially for the photo that Michael had promised to take in the event of his heroic return. Now Razor’s hand would get all greasy. She pulled his head in tighter, squashing his nose into her bush. Apparently, Razor didn’t care. Bernard continued licking as her foot touched his back.

Wow, Razor’s pussy smelled good! It was actually troublesome, because it was making him hard, and his erection was trapped uncomfortably against the concrete floor. Bernard slowly and carefully re-positioned himself, taking care not to jolt Razor’s injured foot, and all the while continuing his tongue movement. This had to be a feat of coordination on par with playing the piano! He swallowed more of her sticky juices and resumed licking.

“Just lick my clit!” called Razor. “Up a bit! Put your lips around it, yeah, like that, and oh my god, yes, keep doing that. Don’t stop until I say. Oh fuck yeah, like that Bernie.”

Bernard oscillated his tongue over Razor’s clitoris. He was pretty sure she liked it, because she put her other hand on his head too, and made a noise not all that dissimilar from the one he’d made when he’d seen the skeleton.

Lick, lick, lick; it was easier than kissing. Messier for sure, with her orders preventing him from doing anything about the vaginal fluids spreading over his face, but Razor’s clitoris was substantially smaller than her tongue. That meant his own tongue needed substantially less energy to stimulate it. The clitoris was, as Bernard recalled, anatomically similar to the penis, and assuming Razor’s clitoris worked like his own penis, it wouldn’t need anything complicated. That and a mouth was probably better than a hand.

The thought of Razor’s mouth on his cock spurred him on. He really wanted to experience it, but if he disappointed Razor then he might never get another chance. Despite all the encouraging noises she was making, loud in the empty room, she didn’t seem to be actually orgasming.

“Fuck, that’s good,” gasped Razor. “Harder.”

The shame of giving up now would be unbearable. A bit of lactic acid burn in his tongue was nothing compared to a sprained ankle. If Razor wanted him to lick harder then he’d lick harder. He was perhaps lacking in barbarian warrior endurance, but he was still having a great time. Razor’s pussy was delicious; cunnilingus was nifty keen.

Razor shifted position suddenly, such that Bernard worried the movement might have hurt her ankle. Still, she didn’t tell him to stop, so he kept his tongue on her clit. He flicked it up and down, feeling her hands pressing against his scalp, and her naked thighs quivering beneath him. His own breathing was labored now too, every breath filtered through Razor’s thick pubic hair. After some more hard licks, she moved more violently, and her voice came almost unrecognizable.

“Stop.”

Bernard stopped, and Razor’s body twitched once more. He felt the pressure of her hands release from his head. He looked up. Where were his glasses?

He found them, and put them on, and saw Razor lying on the floor smiling at him. She carefully put her panties back on. “Bernie, you’re surprisingly good at that,” she said happily. “Oral sex is a great painkiller.” And now…? Bernard was beginning to worry that she’d changed her mind, when she continued, “Sit down, Bernie. It’s your turn.”

His cock was still hard. He reached for his belt buckle, then jumped as the door opposite them swung open. Dave! They were rescued after all.

“Hey, Razor,” said Dave. “And Bernard, of course. I talked the green tentacle into helping you escape. He was very helpful once I told him you’re a musician. We’re going to record a demo tape for him.” Dave looked down at Razor’s foot. “You okay there? Nasty bruise you’ve got.”

“Sprained my ankle trying to fight that old woman,” said Razor. “Doesn’t matter though. Bernard’s going to help me walk. Let’s get out of here.”

Dave looked at Bernard strangely. “Cheer up Bernard,” he said. “You’re rescued. Let’s go save Sandy.” Bernard picked up Razor again and helped her out of the dungeon. They headed up the stairs to the music room.

* * * * *

It turned out that pianos had pedals, and you were supposed to use your feet too, but Razor said it didn’t matter. She improvised a catchy tune using only her hands; a cheerful, jerky kind of tune, without the usual blending of the notes that the pedal would cause. Dave recorded it on cassette tape.

The green tentacle was surprisingly friendly once you got to know him. Even Dr. Fred wasn’t so bad after Dave had freed him from the influence of the evil meteor. Bernard’s own role in this was mostly that of taking the load off Razor’s ankle. It was, he told himself, a very important one. She would get some crutches and proper bandages in the morning, but for now, protecting her ankle was Bernard’s responsibility.

They said goodbye to Dr. Fred, and Bernard helped Razor into the back of Dave’s car. Sandy rode in the front, and Dave drove them back to campus. It was late enough that Michael would probably be asleep, so Bernard’s heroic photograph would have to wait until tomorrow. Besides, he had something else on his mind.

* * * * *

“Come on in,” said Razor. She had a single room, and Bernard helped her inside. The walls were decorated with posters of musicians with wild hairstyles and strange-looking guitars. The two of them sat down on her bed.

“I’ll be brutally honest with you,” said Razor. “You’re not cool at all. You’re the dorkiest guy I’ve ever met, and if you knew the guys I went to high school with, you’d know that’s really saying something. But even though you’re a total mega-geek, I like you.” She put her arm around him. “You kiss pretty good, and, best of all, you lick pussy pretty good. I was hoping we could make it a regular thing.”

“Oh wow, Razor, that’s keen. I’d love that. I’ll kiss you and lick your pussy as much as you like.”

She pulled him in for a long, deep kiss, before continuing, “Thanks, Bernie. And I think I owe you something.” Bernard was already hard in anticipation.

Razor unbuckled his belt and yanked his pants down violently. Bernard’s cock sprang free, and Razor twisted her body to lean down over it. She wrapped her lips around him, and began to move. Ah, reciprocation. Of course she’d meant it in the social sense, but watching her move like that, he could see the funny side. This was something worth waiting for.

Razor sucked cock with the same aggressive tongue action she’d used to kiss him. She slurped it over the head of his penis while she moved her head up and down, squeezing her lips around his shaft. Looking at it scientifically, it was a more difficult task than licking pussy, but Razor’s coordination was as good as you’d expect from somebody who could play the piano. Her teeth didn’t touch him even once.

This sure was neat. Razor showed no signs of slowing down. Her warm, wet mouth moved vigorously over his hard cock. Bernard gripped her bed sheets, hands clenching hard enough for his knuckles to show white against his pale skin. She kept sucking. His abs tensed, the stimulation almost painful.

“Ah, Razor,” gasped Bernard, “that’s enough.”

She raised her head. “What’s wrong?”

“It just felt all weird.”

“You want me to stop?”

Razor’s mouth had felt great at first, but even without tooth contact, the blowjob had built up to an uncomfortable feeling. It was almost like her teeth had been scraping him, even though he knew they had not. He couldn’t help thinking that it was somehow his fault. “I’m sure you’re doing it right,” he told her, “but that’s enough.”

“You didn’t cum, though,” said Razor.

“It’s okay,” said Bernard. After all, he had the most reliable method of all, which never felt uncomfortable. His right hand would be busy once he made it back to his room.

“But after what you did for me, I’ll feel bad if you don’t.”

“I’ve already had a good time,” said Bernard.

Razor hugged him closer. “Bernie, you’re a virgin, aren’t you?”

“How did you know?”

“Call it female intuition. It doesn’t suit you though. I think I’ll take it.”

“Take what?”

“Your virginity. I’ve got rubbers in my desk. Top drawer. Get undressed and put one on.”

Only concern about hurting Razor’s ankle kept him from physically leaping up from the bed. But once at the desk, his haste succumbed to curiosity. Inside, Bernard found a vast assortment of makeup, jewelry, and a strange round object made from pink plastic. There was a switch on it. He turned it on, and the object began vibrating with a buzzing sound. Very interesting indeed. “What’s that?” asked Bernard.

“Something that feels almost as good as your tongue. Now stop wasting the battery and come over here and fuck me.” Bernard felt a flush of embarrassment as he realized what it was. He quickly turned off the vibrator, then found a condom under a box of earrings. He’d learned all about condoms in sex-ed class, so this was no problem at all. With it unrolled the correct away, and the air squeezed out from the tip, he turned to see Razor lying completely naked on the bed.

“Why are you still dressed?” asked Razor.

“I was busy putting the condom on.”

“Shut up and strip.” Bernard hurriedly obeyed. “Take your glasses off too.” He put them on the desk. “Now put that fat cock inside me, and watch the ankle.”

Bernard climbed carefully onto the bed. He lowered himself over Razor, who grabbed his head and pulled him down for another kiss. Without his glasses, it would be hard to see her pussy from this distance anyway, so he moved a hand down to investigate her body by touch. He ran his fingers across her thigh, and through her pubic hair, and made contact with her pussy. It was as wet as it had been when he’d gone down on her.

He just needed to align his penis and… contact! With Razor’s tongue still roving inside his mouth, Bernard pressed forward, and slipped effortlessly inside her. Her vagina clamped tight around him, but the friction was low enough that he could move forward with ease. The intense sensation was perhaps the only thing that could distract him from the feeling of her enthusiastic kissing, and her nipples rubbing against his bare chest. From a scientific point of view, it was a total mystery. He could only act on instinct.

Forward… back… Razor didn’t break the kiss, but she moved her hips to help him get good penetration. Bernard moved his hips like a man possessed, fucking her with fast, deep strokes. Razor’s slippery pussy seemed to ripple around him, squeezing him like an octopus engulfing its prey. The weird feeling returned, but now it was no reason to stop.

Bernard fucked her faster, sweat beading on his back, his breath growing short. It felt like Razor’s pussy was sucking him in, merging their bodies into a mass of undifferentiated protoplasm. The feeling of tension mounted to a near-unbearable peak, and then nerves fired, muscles twitched, and the condom filled with semen. Bernard collapsed exhausted on top of her.

Razor stopped kissing and roughly jerked his head up. “Already?”

Hadn’t it been a long time? He tried to get his breath back, and looked down at her. “Was that no good?”

Razor’s laughter made her breasts jiggle against him. “You need practice, that’s all. You’ll get a lot of practice with me.”

“Thanks, Razor! I’ll look forward to it.” But he hadn’t completely recovered from the exercise, and he was getting soft, so he pulled out and removed the condom. Still, some parts of his body had escaped the strenuous workout. “Say, Razor,” said Bernard, “my tongue isn’t tired. Would you like some more oral sex?”

“That attitude,” said Razor, “is _exactly_ the reason why I’m happy to have a nerd boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?”

“Yeah. You think I’m going to share you? No fucking chance. You’re all mine, Bernie.”

“Neat! I suppose that means you’re my girlfriend now?”

“That’s right. I won’t cheat on you, and you won’t cheat on me. And if you do, I’ll rip your balls off. Now make your way down the bed and lick my pussy.”

Bernard was happy to oblige. By the time Razor was satisfied, it very late indeed.


End file.
